


her sweet kiss

by sinfulchihuahua0602



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Gen, Pining Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:21:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24721480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfulchihuahua0602/pseuds/sinfulchihuahua0602
Summary: how jaskier wrote the song 'her sweet kiss.'
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29





	her sweet kiss

It’s a natural thing for Jaskier to put a little piece of himself in every song he writes. He’s a bard, after all; songs are his entire life, everything he lives for is writing songs and singing them and playing them. He wouldn’t be a bard if he didn’t; he wanted to live on and what better way than to send his songs out across the Continent. Little pieces of Jaskier all over; every song written through a feeling or a thought or an urge. 

It was not an easy thing when the song he was writing seemed to have every piece of himself in it. Every piece he simultaneously didn’t want to let go of and wanted to burn out of himself, because he was the only person who would have that- not  _ feeling _ , Jaskier couldn’t name it that definitively or he’d truly fall apart- that  _ piece _ , and Geralt wouldn’t ever have it too. The world was cruel that way. __

Geralt. The things Jaskier could sing about him. He dreamed about them, thought of them, felt them. There were hundreds of words he could sing about Geralt of Rivia and none of them were the ones he wanted to say, or be said to him, yet they invaded him all hours of the day and night. They came to him when he met Geralt’s golden eyes, when he heard the swing of a sword and had monster blood spattered onto him just before it would have been his own blood spattered everywhere, when he snuck Roach some extra food knowing full well Geralt was watching because Jaskier knew he couldn’t fool a Witcher that easily. Jaskier had long since come to the realization that he couldn’t escape the poetry whispering in his head about Geralt any more than he could escape the aches in his feet because Geralt still refused to let him ride on Roach. 

He sang the words anyway, put idle tunes to them in the dark of night when Geralt was hunting and Jaskier was alone in the inn. Whispered them to himself when Geralt was sleeping, softly hummed the tunes that stuck. He never made a song out of them - he couldn’t. Jaskier would not allow himself to make a song out of the words he thought about Geralt, because it would - it would devastate him. That was a piece of himself he didn’t want to give up.

And yet here he was, following Geralt, and he could feel the song forming. It pressed at his skin, fluttering like a bird under his rib cage and up to his throat. He didn’t sing it when Geralt was around - couldn’t. He was afraid that the Witcher would realize who it was about and leave him,  _ though _ , he thought bitterly,  _ the Witcher hadn’t noticed his feelings before, why would he notice now. _

_ I am weak, my love, and I am wanting...  _

The song came as naturally to him as breathing, and that was the ironic part, wasn’t it, because when he sung it he felt more like he was suffocating. Geralt wanted to protect him, but Jaskier wondered if Geralt knew he needed to protect Jaskier from himself, too. If he knew that Jaskier suffocated slowly every minute he was in his presence, something so close but so untouchable. Forbidden fruit. 

Jaskier followed him when the man offered a dragon hunt and maybe that was the last in a long line of mistakes made by him, maybe that was when Destiny decided she’d stab Jaskier one last time. Geralt’s eyes snapped to Yennefer as soon as she entered the tavern and Jaskier wished he had never met something that could take up a Witcher’s focus so entirely. Not even the monsters who were attacking him took up as much focus as that damned mage did. And Jaskier felt the knife twist in his heart when Geralt said  _ I’m in _ and never took his eyes off of Yennefer. 

The injustice of it all burned through him. Jaskier was ready to offer himself up to do anything for Geralt. He’d follow Geralt to the edge of the world -  _ had _ followed Geralt to the edge of the world. But that was never enough. His singing was never enough for Jaskier, why would it be enough for Geralt? He couldn’t stop the anger, though, fire mixed with ice and darkness and that tangle of emotions that he always associated with  _ Geralt _ , who he hated and loved and couldn’t leave.

_ She’s always bad news, it’s always lose, lose, so tell me love, tell me love, how is that just?  _

Jaskier followed Geralt anyway, because there was nothing else he could do. He had bound himself to Geralt and he didn’t really want to be free, no matter how much it hurt him seeing those striking golden eyes locked onto someone else and filled with something Jaskier knew was not the bland, flat look reserved for everyone else. Including him - he’d gotten something else in those eyes, something  _ more _ once, at that court. He’d let the bird of hope fly and flutter in his chest and he’d found the bird had died bloody when he looked through that window at Geralt and Yennefer, who were both  _ very much alive. _

He followed Geralt even when they sat around a fire and the only person he looked at was Yennefer. He silently cursed the mage when Geralt didn’t spare him a glance the whole night, and found himself humming idle tunes, words springing to his tongue laced with anger and jealousy and that tangle of emotions tied up with the name Geralt of Rivia.

_ Her current is pulling you closer, and charging the hot, humid night...  _

Jaskier knew where Geralt was as soon as he knew that Yennefer’s escort was dead and Geralt wasn’t sleeping where he was supposed to be. He felt the rush of anger and wondered if the Witcher knew how easily he had ended Jaskier’s life the same as he did everyone else’s. With a blade or without. Geralt was well trained in killing and he was no different with Jaskier - taking the breath from his lungs and cutting him where it hurt most. 

_ There’s a storm raging on the horizon, of longing and heartache and lust... _

The lyrics came to him as easily as any words about Geralt did; with every breath he took and every time he picked up his lute. Even when the words weren’t specifically about Geralt, they were still his. All of Jaskier was his, whether the Witcher realized it or not. And the song- the song he didn’t want to get attached to, the song he shouldn’t have written because he never made songs like this about Geralt. The words he thought about Geralt of Rivia took too many pieces of him to sing - the song was taking too many pieces of him to sing. But he sung it anyway, because it was pushing at his skin and begging to be let out the same way anything Jaskier thought or said about Geralt did, but this time he wasn’t- he couldn’t- refuse.

So he let the lyrics give themselves a tune and he hummed that tune, softly sang the lyrics until he fell asleep, knowing what Geralt was doing in Yennefer’s tent. He let the lyrics play in his head when Geralt told him he didn’t want him. He said he’d get the story from the others and resigned himself to never seeing Geralt again, because Witchers had the strongest wills of anyone and he knew that the thought of seeing Jaskier again was not enough to break Geralt’s. He wouldn’t be seeing the Witcher again if Geralt had any say in it. 

He got the story from the others, but he discovered there  _ was _ no story. The dwarves had gotten what they wanted and Geralt had protected the dragon. Nothing had gone devastatingly wrong. 

Except Yennefer. Because Yennefer always went wrong and Geralt was in love with her and he didn’t need Jaskier. Not like Jaskier needed him, not like Jaskier needed breath to live. There was no story as to why anything was wrong other than Yennefer. Fucking  _ Yennefer _ .

_ But the story is this, she’ll destroy with her sweet kiss...  _

Because Geralt considered losing Yennefer being ‘in a pile of shit,’ because Yennefer mattered so much and Jaskier didn’t. Jaskier didn’t and he wrote songs about Geralt anyway because he couldn’t just  _ turn this off _ like a fucking switch. So he let this song take all the pieces of him he didn’t want taken and he sang it with anger and jealousy and  _ love _ and all the emotions associated with Geralt because he had abandoned him and he should be able to sort through the emotions but he couldn’t. He couldn’t because it was  _ Geralt _ and he’d never known what he felt when it came to Geralt. 

The first time he sang it and many times after, he never missed the way his voice grew slightly sharper when he asked _ how is that just. _ It wasn’t just,  _ it wasn’t _ , and he held on to that anger and bitterness for years before the song turned softer. It turned into a lament of what Jaskier had lost and would never have. 

And if Jaskier’s voice became a little less detached, the professional entertainer’s smile faded from his face, well. No one would notice.  _ Certainly not Geralt _ , Jaskier thought bitterly.


End file.
